The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-07-20
THE ABANDONED BRIG,
A SAILORS STORY.

which occurred while I was one of the
crew of the ship Stranger is not to be
found in the records of the sea. We
loaded at Liverpool for the Cape and
ports beyond, on the west coast of Africa.
Our last port of call was to be Zanzibar.
Before leaving the docks at Liverpool
two or three of us took down the map
hanging on the wall at our boarding
house and traced out the course. When
we came to figure up the distance we
were amazed. When we came to figure
on the perils of such voyage we won
dered how many of US would live to see
the palms of Africa. The average lands
man sees ship pull out of her dock
without asking or caring which way she
is to go, how long the voyage is to be,
or what the perils of her course. Per-
haps it is not his business to ask or care.
Each vocation in life has its profits and
perils, and it is seemingly left to each
toiier to work out his own salvation.
Well, we had touched at Port Natal to
unload some machines, and were headed
up for the Mozambique channel, when
we got caught in cyclone. 1t came on
about II, o'clock in the morning, and We
had everything snug to meet it. Two
.coaSting schooners, both bound our
way, had come out of Natal with US, and
When the storm came bowling down both
we're in full sight. Inside of twenty
minutes one foundered and went to the
bottom, and the other we almost ran
over as she drifted bottom up. We had
big craft, and she had taken out enough
cargo to float like cork; but within an
hour the sea got up until mill pond
constantly washed our decks, and now
and then wave came over the rail,
which filled her until we stood hip deep
in the frothy water. We had to knock
away a portion of the bulwarks to give
her chance to unload, but even then
there were occasions when it seemed as if
she could not rise with her burden.
don't remember that any of US were
frightened. Both watches were on duty,
the officers alert, and we knew that moth
ing could be done, except to stand ready
if any sudden peril menaced us. We
were not lying to, as would have been
the case in a roaring gale. With the
wind screaming and shrieking along at
the rate of eighty or ninety miles an
hour, no ship could have Eeen held up to
it, even if she were not driven under
stern fist.
had been sailing for fifteen years,
and vet had never encountered
anything like this storm. The an,
ger of it was appalling. 1t seemed
determined that nothing made by the
hand of man should survive it. When
we slid down into the great hollows be-
tween the waves the wind was lost to us
on the decks, but it roared and shriekcd
through our tophamper like ten thousand
mad devils. Then, as we slowly climbed
the steep hill of water, the ship seeming
to stand almost perpendiculpr on heI
stern, the wild blasts struck us again,
until every man had to hang on for his
life. When we were in the full embrace
Of the storm the report of field piece
could not have been heard twenty feet.
had only one look astern of the ship. A
fye-pound note could not have hired me
to look again. A great wall of water,
crested with six feet of froth, was rush.
ing down as if to roll over US, and I shu;
my eyes and held nv breath. 1t lifted
the ship and flung her forward as boy
might toss chip, but l would not look
again.
1t was about noon, and I was making
my way aft to tell the Captain that we
could make out some sort of wreck on
our port bow, when we were swept by 8
wave from stern to stem. My grip on
the life line was broken as the waters
rushed over me, and next instant knew
was being carried over the rail. AS
went bumped against two of the men,
buried over their heads in water, but
hanging on for life. I clutched at one
of them, and tore piece from
his jacket, and thirty seconds later
was overheard for good and
trying to get my head above the
foam, which piled up on the surface like
yeast. When did get look around
me4she ship was quarter of mile away,
aud Just sinking into hollow. know
1t has been the case with most sailors
who have been put in such peril that no
hope of salvation existed, that feeling
Of exultation was born. 1t was so with
me. l had profound pity for the poor
fellows on board the Stranger. Their
danger seemed far greater than mine.
They would drive on until the ship
grounded or struck rock, and every
soul of them would perish on the cruel
ledges or be drowned in the clutch of the
deadly undertow. My death would be
easy and without pain. All had to do
was to cease struggling and sink down,
down, down to a peaceful sleep below
the vexed surface. l was doubtless
drowning when this feeling was upon
me, but something occurred to arouse
me. Some object bumped against me,
and instinctivcly reached out toward il.
It was part of the cooks galley or house.
The wave which had swept me overheard
had smashed the house and sent one
whole side of it after me. l can remem
Der that knew what the object was, and
that l grasped it and felt that had 4
chance for life, but then comes blank
Isuppose 1 was butfcted about until
lost consciousness, but had grip on
the wreckage which even death would
not have released.
The next thing I remember was feel
ing of thirst. l thought was wandering
ip the woods in search of spring, ano
the longer I hunted the more thirsty
became. was about to slide down
bank into dark ravine when I opened
my eyes and found myself extended on
the wreckage, either hand gripping Sc
firmly that it was only after several trials